…and then it dawned on me…

This is the last day that I will ever be the parent of a teenager. My very own (baby) minion turns twenty tomorrow. Somehow I thought I’d always have teenage offspring of my very own, but after all these years, it’s over.

My baby will turn twenty tomorrow, and there will be no more to follow him. Tam has Li'l Red, so it’s not like we’re totally bereft of the joys of adolescence and the nonsensical chaos it brings, but it’s not the same.

Tam and I were talking this morning about life and time and how they seem to slip away when you’re not looking. There’s a picture of our four boys, back when they were all little more than monkeys, and we both agree that we miss those days. We miss the mud-covered baboons, the toy cars, the swords-out-of-sticks and cardboard shields and the adventures that came with them. We miss the silliness, the braggadocio of who had the better fort and why.

We miss cuddling with freshly scrubbed minions, still warm and sweet from the bath, wrapped in towels and kept warm in our embrace. We miss little voices laughing, we miss the simple times.

Not that it was all great, grand, and glorious back then, but in hindsight, it was pretty awesome and we loved it.

Now my youngest is showing me that his sire and I did ok in the way he was raised. He’s not perfect, but like his siblings, he’s pretty damned awesome. Like his father, he’s generous, although my son is generous to a fault. Also like his father, he’s a kind soul who doesn’t like to make waves. He’s also got that indecision thing going on, too. Just like his father.

He has a great sense of humor, he’s impatient, and he can be very reckless at times. Care to guess where those traits came from…?

He’s very smart, but not terribly wise, which can be a difficult combination to handle, especially when you’re male and young. He has regrets of past hurts he’s done to people and tends to carry them strapped to his heart, even when it’s ok to let them go. I’d carry them for him if I could, but I have my own to tend.

Yes, I’m crying as I write this. No surprise to those who know me.

Good night, young son. Tomorrow I’ll say happy birthday to a fine young man while my heart holds on a little longer to your childhood.